


sail away (and take me with you)

by NimDamy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/F, F/M, Gen, Genderbending, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pirates, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27228937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NimDamy/pseuds/NimDamy
Summary: “Hoist the colors, men!” she shouts, and her voice drags the young man out of his reverie. “We’re setting sail!”And that prompts the young man into action. He runs through the gathered crowd and reaches the edge of the pier just as she’s making her way back on the ship.“Captain!” he shouts, and she turns around at the sound, eyes finding him almost instantly. “Do you have room for one more on your ship?”
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron), Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	sail away (and take me with you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Enchanted_Shadows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchanted_Shadows/gifts).



The port of Pala is more crowded than usual.

The young man making his way through the crowds cannot help but be thankful for that. He needs a way out of the queendom, and there are more than enough ships in harbor to provide him with said way out, but from the looks of it none of them is preparing for departure. 

Of course, with the arrival of the imperial delegation from Daibazaal, the entire Queendom of Voltron would be standing at attention.

Rumours were that, after the disaster in Altea, the complete occupation of the kingdom and the untimely demise of many Alteans, including King Alfor, Queen Melenor and their two daughters, Emperor Zarkon was now searching for a suitable match for his son. 

The queendom of Voltron, while not particularly large, is strong and prosperous. It has the advantage of geographical positioning and of strong political ties that make it a desirable ally, as well as the elite warrior unit, the Blade of Marmora, established by Queen Asali Marmora, founder of the queendom, and currently under the lead of lord Kolivan, making the queendom a formidable opponent.

It stands to reason that, even with the might of the empire’s army, Emperor Zarkon would first try the diplomatic approach. 

Of course, the coming of age of princess Katherine, daughter and heir of Queen Krolia, in the year before, gave the emperor a wondrous opportunity to do just that.

The Queendom of Voltron would, indeed, be the crown jewel of the Galra Empire.

Now the people of the queendom are waiting for news with bated breaths, because the imperial delegation consisted of the emperor himself, his son, Crown Prince Lotor and some of his most ruthless and blood-thirsty generals. Galrans whose names spread fear even throughout the peaceful queendom, such as Sendak, Narti and Prorok.

Yet none of these are troubling the mind of the young man as he’s walking through the port, searching for a ship that would leave the harbor rather than arrive at it. Of course, that is proving to be one of the greatest challenges he’s ever faced.

Or so he thinks, because suddenly there’s a small figure dashing through the crowd and almost slamming into him head on. They adjust course at the last possible moment, gracefully avoiding the collision, not really paying him any attention other than to consider him just another obstacle in their path. 

The young man’s eyes follow the orange-brown mess of hair as its owner sprints for one of the smaller vessels anchored close to the pier he’s currently walking. The ship’s a beauty, the soft yet powerful lines speaking of masterful craftsmanship that traces its origins to Altea and the master ship-builders that lived there before the siege.

“Captain!” the small person shouts, voice leading the young man to consider the person as either a lithe woman or an older child, “Captain, I got it, I got it!” They’re at the bottom of the boardwalk when they’re greeted by the most beautiful woman the young man’s ever seen.

Even from the distance he could see the way her golden-brown skin was almost glowing in the mid-morning sun and her hair was unbound, falling like a dark waterfall down her back.

“Hoist the colors, men!” she shouts, and her voice drags the young man out of his reverie. “We’re setting sail!”

And that prompts the young man into action. He runs through the gathered crowd and reaches the edge of the pier just as she’s making her way back on the ship.

“Captain!” he shouts, and she turns around at the sound, eyes finding him almost instantly. “Do you have room for one more on your ship?”

It’s rough and unrefined but she smirks at him, and it doesn’t feel like that much of a misstep.

“It depends… you can handle a blade?” she asks, looking him up and down and he gets the distinct feeling that there’s more to her question than she’s letting on, but it’s a question nonetheless and he’s running out of time.

“I’ve trained with the Marmora for the past ten years,” he says and her eyes suddenly snap back to his face.

“You have a name, stranger?” she asks, and there’s something else in her voice now, something sharp, and there’s something stronger, more rigid in the set of her shoulders.

“Do you, captain?” he shots back and now she’s smirking again, walking down the plank to stand in front of him and flicks a rebel lock of hair over her shoulder.

“Lancey McClain, captain of the Veradera and her crew. As it happens, I am short a fighter, so I might have the room for one extra pair of hands,” she says, and she is close enough now that he can see just a hint of sea green in her azure eyes.

He takes a step back and bows low. 

“Yorak. Keith Yorak, at your service, Captain,” he replies.

He’d add more, but he’s interrupted by the sudden coldness of steel under his chin. His eyes travel up the length of the blade and to the stunning Captain, holding the Altean broad-sword’s grip with practiced ease.

“Master Yorak, many a man claim they trained under the guiding light of the Marmora. I have no room for liars aboard my ship.”

His lips twist upwards into the slightest of smiles.

“Allow me to prove it to you, then,” he says.

And he stands up.

A fraction of a second later there’s a long sword in his head and the captain would, of course, wonder where the man got the sword from, were it not for the upward stroke of said blade, the sharp tip drawing a precise line that would have her bleeding. She jumps backwards and raises her own sword, barely blocking the tail-end of his strike.

He doesn’t give her any time to consider her next move, already pressing forward, and it’s only the years of training with all manners of weapons that save her from being skewered on his sword. One more leap behind and they’re on the deck. A couple more steps and he has her almost pinned to the main mast.

But she’s starting to notice things, the slightest of patterns in his movements.

There’s the slightest twitch of his nose and he’s leaning just a little harder on his left leg when he’s about to strike and she feels the corner of her mouth turn ever-so-slightly upwards. Now that she’s found his tell, the fight can turn into her favor.

So she watches, and just when his weight is about to shift to his right foot, she lunges, her own foot ready to hook behind his and bring him to the ground.

But she meets no resistance, and the split-second of lost focus costs her.

He jumps, high, high above her head in her crouched position, and lands back on his feet with almost-feline grace. His eyes meet hers and they glint almost golden for a second as he brings his sword down towards her, and yet she can sense no malice, no ill will from him. Her stance is unstable and the only way for her to avoid the razor-sharp blade is to drop to the deck and roll.

He sees it coming. 

So he’s there to meet her as she tries to jump back to her feet, too close to the deck to be able to use her own sword properly.

She raises her head to face him, the tip of his blade pointing to her throat.

He’s won.

She lets go of the handle of her weapon but holds his gaze. A long-ago lesson from her father comes to the fore-front of her mind.  _ There’s no shame in losing, in accepting that you will not always win, there’s honor in holding your head up high and admitting that you have been bested and in learning from your losses, _ his voice sounds out clear as day in her ears.

He studies her face for a few seconds, neither of them moving, and she can see the softest flakes of gold in his dark purple eyes, but then he’s smiling at her and there’s no longer a sword pointing at her, but rather a hand reaching out and she allows him to help her to her feet.

She’s back on her own two feet again, her sword forgotten on the deck, wiping her palms on her trousers when she risks another look at him, and it’s just in time to watch his blade fade away, no, not fade, but shorten, leaving the man to hold a short knife instead. There’s an insignia on the hilt that glows bright for a second more, and she recognizes the seal of Marmora. 

“Have I proved myself true to my words, Captain?” he asks, as he returns the knife to a sheath on his hip.

“You fight as though you were born with a Luxite blade in your hand,” she replies and takes not a small amount of pleasure in the way his eyes widen. Clearly, he hadn’t expected her to recognize the blade in such detail.

She turns her back to him and bends down from the waist to retrieve her own sword, and thanks the ancients for her keen ears that pick up his sudden sharp inhale.

She faces him again as she returns the sword to its sheath. He merely raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Welcome aboard the Veradera, Keith Yorak.”

**Author's Note:**

> hi!  
> thanks for taking the time to read this!  
> if you feel so inclined, please:  
> join us in the [Voltron Discord](https://discord.gg/JnC529h) server  
> find me on [tumblr](https://nimdamy.tumblr.com)  
> and take all your reactions to the little buttons labeled "kudos" and "comment" below!  
> cheers!


End file.
